The word still hits my ears wrong. Asgardian. Like I should be wearing armor and speaking in thees and thous. Part of me wants to correct him, to say "I'm still me, just... different," but I don't. The pride in his voice when he says it makes the words stick in my throat. Besides, he's not wrong. Not technically. The transformation was real enough. I have the fur and fangs to prove it.
“Ooooh, wolfy fun. Have you shifted?”
I nod, feeling my wolf stir slightly at the mention of shifting. She's always there now, just beneath my skin.
The petite brunette squeals and claps her hands, her reaction so normal and excited that I can't help but smile. She's treating my supernatural transformation like it's just a cool party trick, not a fundamental rewiring of my DNA. Something about her enthusiasm makes this whole insane situation feel a little less lonely.
"I hope I get to see your wolf some time. But in the meantime, like my husband said, welcome to Camelot, King Arthur's castle."
"The King Arthur?" I ask, feeling a little less crazy for once. There's something oddly validating about finding another Earth woman who's adapted to all this magickal craziness. If she can handle it with such cheerful enthusiasm, maybe I'm not doing so badly after all.
Melinda leans forward like she’s going to tell me a secret. “Arthur Pendragon was a Fae.”
I smile and nod. Somehow this revelation doesn’t surprise me in the least. At this point I’m probably going to believe anything anyone tells me.
“I know it’s not going to be pleasant, and Melinda you don’t have to come if you’re not up to it, but I really need Fen and Astrid to see what has happened with the Table.” Hawke pulls his wife to his waist and kisses the top of her head.
She frowns and worries her lip with her teeth. “You’re going to scare her off before I have a chance to make her my friend. And I’m okay. I’ll come with you.”
Hawke's eyes meet mine, appraising. "I believe Astrid is made of much sterner stuff, just like you. She'll not scare easily."
Fen shifts his weight, shoulders tensing. "Is there something wrong with the Round Table?"
"It's better if you see, Fen." Hawke's jaw tightens, fingers drumming against his thigh.
"What of the Queen and the sword?"
The entire castle chooses that moment to shake like it's going to fall down around us. A huge crack splits through the floor. Smaller fissures race up the walls. Dust rains down from the ceiling, and I instinctively duck.
"Holy shit!" I stumble against Fen's solid frame, grabbing his arm to steady myself. "What was that?"
People scramble through the castle, holding their hands over the cracks mending the rock like it’s a living thing that can be soothed back together.
“Hawke?” Fen asks.
“It’s the queen,” he sighs. “We have several hundred Fae from Vandimoor on a constant rotation keeping the castle in one piece. The Upir have been very accommodating.”
“I should think so, since you’re the only ones that can fix the castle. There were only smaller cracks happening last time I was here. When did it escalate?”
“I assume it was when you bonded with Astrid and the next piece of Excalibur appeared.”
My cheeks heat. Wait? What? But I don’t say anything. I don’t want to bring any more attention to our bedroom activities than necessary, but what does our bond have to do with earthquakes and a legendary sword.
Fen nuzzles my ear, kisses my cheek, and pulls me close to his hip. “It is alright, Astrid,” he whispers. “Our bonding is something to be proud of. I am.”
“I am. I just don’t know these people, Fen,” I say back under my breath. “That’s private.”
"Come," Hawke gestures for us to follow. "The Table won't wait, and neither will our other... situation. Wraith and Boaz are also waiting for us."
“It will be good to see them,” Fen says.
Hawke turns, Melinda falling into step beside him as they lead us deeper into the castle. Kellan follows a few paces behind, his vigilant gaze constantly scanning our surroundings. Fen's hand finds mine, and we trail after them.
We pass through an archway, and the corridor we enter is vast, with ceilings so high they disappear into shadow. Windows of stained glass line one wall, beautiful colors and designs. The light that filters through casts patterns of color across the polished stone floor, which shows no seams between stones—as if the entire floor were crafted from a single piece of marble.
"It's beautiful," I say softly.
"Thank you. The castle was built by the Pendragon and the Stormblood families," Hawke says as we walk.
